


Not on the Kitchen Chair

by Diary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Condoms, F/M, Female Character of Color, Female-Male Friendship, Hook-Up, Male Character of Color, Melissa McCall-centric, Mother-Son Relationship, POV Character of Color, POV Melissa McCall, Pre-Teen Wolf (TV), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10065590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Repost. A not-quite regretful encounter between Melissa and the sheriff pre-series. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.
> 
> Author's Notes: While I personally believe, once divorce proceedings are initiated, a marriage is effectively over, and a person dating/having sex with someone else doesn't constitute adultery, others may disagree. In this, Melissa's divorce to Raf hasn't been finalised. She herself has mixed feelings about the encounter due to this, but she explicitly makes the decision to continue despite these feelings.

Driving on a flat always make Melissa feel as if the car is about to flip over.

“Please, please, stay on the road,” she murmurs.

Managing to park it on the side of the road, she lets out a sigh once the engine’s safely turned off.  “Okay, this could be worse.”

Getting out to look at the damage, she tries to keep hold of these words.

The tire is completely destroyed. She’s going to have to buy a new one, and if she tries to get help from Raf, he’ll use it as another opening for why Scott should come live with him.

Someone pulls over, and she relaxes when she sees it’s Sheriff Stilinski in his civilian car. His son has been in the hospital several times, and she’s heard Mrs Stilinski recently died there.

When father and son first came in, the sheriff had informed her, ‘I won’t hold it against you if you call CPS, but I promise, he really did get all those bruises and cuts from trying to use the lawnmower. I was at work, and his babysitter was too busy on the phone to watch him properly.’

Almost on cue, the little boy had promptly almost gotten himself killed by one of the vending machines, and she’d immediately marked his son down as a frequent shaver, Beacon Hill code for, ‘The patient is a walking hazard to self and unlikely to be a victim of abuse.’

“Mrs McCall?”

“Good afternoon, sheriff,” she greets. “Please, tell me I’m not breaking any laws. It’s been a long time since driver’s ed., but I think I followed proper procedure.”

“No, you’re good,” he assures her with an easy smile. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Finding herself laughing, she answers, “I don’t know. I have a flat tire and no spare.”

She’s aware she likely isn’t coming across as incredibly sane at the moment, but her philosophy is generally: it’s better to laugh than cry.

Kneeling down, he looks at it. “Wow. Do you have any idea what you ran over?”

“No, I think it’s just the universe sending a big seven-letter, two words message my way.”

Letting out a small chuckle, he stands and gives her a wry smile answers. “I’ve been there. You have a little boy, don’t you? Where’s he?”

“School,” she reminds him.

“Right. Stiles has chickenpox. I probably shouldn’t be telling a trained medical professional this, but one of my deputies wants his four-year-old to catch it now instead of catching it later at school.”

“I personally think that’s a good idea,” she offers. “My husband and I fought over Scott getting the vaccine. Adult chickenpox can be deadly, and I didn’t want to risk Scott forgetting to get it once he was all grown up and catching it. He caught it last year, and he was fine.”

Then, she corrects, “Ex-husband. Or soon-to-be. Sorry about this.”

This is the hazard of having no adult friends due to being relatively new in town and being surrounded by mostly idiotic co-workers, she tries to reassure herself. The social awkwardness will fade, just like it always does, and she’ll be the occasionally too blunt, sarcastic person everyone feels comfortable talking to.

Obviously trying to hide his smile, he tells her, “Unfortunately, I don’t have a spare, but I can call for a tow and drop you off wherever you need to be.”

“Are you sure that wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“I promise,” he says.

“If you could just take me home. I’ll call the school and tell them to have Scott ride the bus.”  

“No problem.”

…

“I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually more manageable, but with all the stuff Raf wants and all the stuff he’s sent, well- we have this,” she says with a wave at the boxes, sticky notes, and roll of tape on the coffee table.

“You should see my place,” he says. “Will you be alright?”

“Yes, but you’re staying for something to drink.”

“That’s not nec-”

“Unfortunately,” she heads to the kitchen, “your options are limited to coffee, water, or any juice box except-”

“Some coffee would be great. I get enough juice boxes at home.”

“Good.”

Sitting down, he clears his throat. “While I’m here, I hate to bring up an uncomfortable subject, but when it comes to your ex-husband is, uh, is there anything I should know? I’m not trying to imply anything, it’s just-”

She gives him what she hopes is a reassuring look. “It’s fine. Raf is a lot of things, but I don’t think you’ll need to worry about him. He’s FBI. Uh, assuming he doesn’t have any big cases pop up around here, he should leave by the end of the month. We’ve been fighting over custody, but I think he’s about ready to back off. He’s- he’s done some things to Scott that he shouldn’t have.” Looking down, she admits, “It took me longer to leave than I should have.”

“Hey,” he says. “The important thing is that you did. From what I’ve seen, you and your boy seem to be doing okay.”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I really lucked out in the kid department. He’s sweeter than I remember the boys my age being. And he’s already decided he’s going to be a veterinarian.”

“I lucked out, too, although my son’s a mad scientist who wants to be a consultant for werewolves.”

“Well, I don’t know how the pay for that would work, but I’m a big believer in people trying to find jobs they love instead of jobs that pay the bills.”

She ignores the twinge. Some days, she loves nursing, and some days, she wonders what she’s doing with her life. Every day, she tells herself she’s going to do whatever she needs to in order to be as good as mom as possible for Scott.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but I’m not sure how I feel about werewolves. Stiles called me speciesist, a word I’m still not sure even exists, but I think I have the right to be worried about creatures who howl at the moon and shapeshift.”

“If it helps, I’d have some prejudice and reservations, too.” She gets up to pour the coffee.

When she sets his cup down, his aftershave floats into her nose, and she involuntarily takes a deep breathe.

He lost his wife, she’s still technically married, and- now, he’s looking up at her with concern and dawning realisation in his eyes.

She starts to move away, but he touches her hand. It’s gentle to the point it’s almost too soft to feel. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” And she’s moving forward, slowly, so he has plenty of time to move, and he’s not moving.

The kiss starts with a gentle press of her lips against his.

He presses back, opening his mouth, and she feels her body responding. Letting everything go, she focuses on the tingling, almost fiery feelings of pleasure rolling through her and barely notices the scrapping of his chair being pushed back as she ends up on his lap.

When she feels him unbuttoning her jeans, some of her sense does come back.

She and Raf once had sex on the kitchen floor and a few times in the back of a car, but right now, she’s still technically married, she has Scott, and she’s not sure the curtains are completely closed on the window. Even if she does this, she just can’t do it on a kitchen chair.

Get out of this situation, her head tells her.

When she leans back and breaks the kiss, he moves his hand from the button and sets both on her waist. “Do we need to stop?”

“We need to move this to the bedroom,” she answers. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

His kiss is answer enough, and as they stumble there, a feeling of being young and desperate floods through her.

Please, she begs, don’t let Scott’s ninja turtle dolls be on the bed. Please, please, don’t let him have an asthma attack while this is happening.

Trying to kick away the guilt, she pulls him down on top of her on the bed and groans when their hips align. “I’m, oh, yes, right there,” she murmurs at him finding a sensitive spot underneath her shirt, “I’m on the pill, but I’d feel more, oh, don’t stop, comfortable, uh,” she has to bite her tongue to ground herself, “if we used something else.”

He pulls back, and she has to resist the urge to bang her head up and down. “I-I could go to the st-”

“No! No, I have some.” She looks over at her nightstand.

“Okay.” Reaching over, he asks, “Okay if I get them out?”

“Yes,” she answers.

Get yourself out of this situation, her head reiterates, and a dull ache settles in her stomach.

However, some other part of her decides, No. Raf and I are through, and I deserve to feel wanted and sexy. He wants to be here, and so do I.

…

Once the clothes are removed, she feels his wedding band against her skin, and it makes her shiver. It almost makes her stop things, but then, he looks at her with soft eyes as his skilled fingers and tongue work, and she tells herself, if he didn’t want this, he’d stop it. Grieving someone doesn’t mean a person can’t create something, no matter how temporary, with someone else.

…

Once the clothes are back on, they sip their coffee, and she alternates between embracing the after-effects and trying to banish her guilt.

“I’m breaking the silence,” she finally blurts out.

In response, he sighs and gives her a grateful look.

“I’ve- If we’d talked, that probably never would have happened. And I hope you don’t regret it, because, I don’t, not really. But- but-” She sighs.

“It’s not the start of a relationship,” he supplies.

“Scott and I are trying to adjust to some big changes, and I’m going to be working even more once Raf leaves,” she says.

She doesn’t add: And you are nowhere near over your wife.

“I understand.” Reaching over, he squeezes her hand. “It probably shouldn’t have happened, but no, I don’t regret it. I’m glad you don’t, either.”

“Thank God,” she mutters.

“Listen, though, if you or Scott ever need anything, I don’t want this to stop you from calling me or the station or 911, okay?”

Feeling warmth spreading through her, she promises, “It won’t.”

Nodding, he lets go and finishes his coffee. “I-I should get going.”

They both stand.

“Thank you for your help,” she says.

“Thank you for the coffee.” His hands move awkwardly, but finally, they settle, and he offers a handshake.

She shakes hand. “No problem.”

…

“Mom,” Scott says one day, “I made a new friend. Can he come over? His name is Stiles Stilinski.”

She tells him yes, and when Sheriff Stilinski comes to pick up his son, they smile awkwardly at one another and indulge the boys’ talk about opening up a werewolf clinic.                                                                                                                                           


End file.
